


Group Therapy

by Soul_in_the_Starlight



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Grief/Mourning, Het and Slash, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-14
Updated: 2012-11-14
Packaged: 2017-11-18 16:10:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/562907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soul_in_the_Starlight/pseuds/Soul_in_the_Starlight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everybody hurts... Sometimes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Group Therapy

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the following prompt at bondkink.livejournal.com:
> 
> "After what happened to M, I figure that both Bond and Moneypenny would be in serious need of some comfort."

There hasn't yet been a proper chance for anyone to air their personal grief at the loss of M. 

Much needs to be done to get MI6 back into smooth, working order following Silva's attack, and Mallory is a firm, albeit fair, taskmaster, working everyone to their limits in the push to get things in to shape. Terrorism isn't going to sit around waiting while MI6 licks its wounds.

But Mallory isn't blind, he's not uncaring. He knows how the death of a beloved figurehead can affect team morale. The signs are there in the increasingly frayed tempers, the red-rimmed eyes, the lack of patience and the drop in efficiency. The day Tanner throws on his coat at 11am, and announces he's had "a bloody gut full of this shit, Sir," is the day Mallory knows enough is enough.

He immediately calls Bond, Q and Moneypenny in to his office with the still seething Tanner, and tells them all to take some time off, and to spread the word to their colleagues on the way out.

"Go out and get shit-faced, hell, have a orgy for all I care. But just remember: drink a toast to the old girl while you're at it. And don't you _dare_ set foot in here again, any of you, until you're focussed back on the job. Now, kindly fuck off."

The assembled group doesn't need asking twice, heading out of the building. Q lags slightly behind, emailing everyone from his phone with the bittersweet news. M's death isn't the excuse for a sabbatical that anyone would have wished for.

"Pub?" suggests Tanner as they stand awkwardly outside the building. Q catches them up, looking slightly miffed.

"I hope getting drunk and indulging in promiscuity with colleagues isn't compulsory."

Tanner claps a hand on Q's shoulder, looking at him in earnest. 

"Boss's orders, old boy, has to be done."

James and Moneypenny exchange flirty glances, and Eve links her arm through Bond's.

"Lead on, Bill," commands Eve, and they set off to follow the first part of their orders, trailing Tanner and the bemused-looking Q.

***

The four of them sit round a small corner table. The pub is traditional and cosy, not one of the modern, trendy affairs catering to busy upstart executives from the City. 

Bond and Tanner are hard on the Scotch, Eve nurses a Bacardi and Coke, and Q is taking tiny, suspicious sips from a glass of orange juice, which Bill has spiked with Vodka.

"Are you sure this is just plain juice?" asks Q, holding his drink up to the light, swirling the contents of the glass.

"Well, obviously," replies Bill, "I ordered it myself, and I absolutely _didn't_ ask them to slip anything in to it."

Eve stifles a smirk.

"Are you trying to get me inebriated, Tanner?" Q turns to face him, throwing him an accusing look. Bill opens his mouth to protest, but Q puts a slender hand up, stopping him.

"Because diluting vodka in fruit juice is a particularly inefficient method. I would suggest that you try a more direct approach."

And with that, Q picks up Tanner's Scotch, downing it in one, leaving the table's other occupants looking impressed. Spurred on by the reaction he provokes, he then picks up Bond's drink, and does the same.

"Who's round is it now?" Q looks expectantly at Bond, who takes the hint. He rises from the table, and Eve stands as well.

"Let me help you," she says, a seductive smile lifting the corners of her mouth.

"Thanks, that would be most... _accommodating_ ," Bond replies, giving Tanner's shoulder a squeeze as he walks past.

Once at the bar, Bond and Eve take a while to decide what to drink next, debating the relative merits of different spirits and combinations. In the end, they decide on double Scotches all round, and a large jug of Pimms; it had been the late M's guilty pleasure, and they could toast her in style.

As the barman set about the preparing the Pimms, the pair of them turn round to face the direction of their table, leaning back against the bar. Eve's eyebrows raise in surprise on seeing that Q and Tanner have moved to sit on the bench seat she had occupied with Bond. Tanner's arm is around Q, who has his hand on Tanner's thigh as Bill whispers in his ear. Eve watches with fascination as Q pushes his glasses up his nose, giggling. He then turns to face Bill, pulling him in for a kiss.

She looks round at Bond, who is also watching their colleagues, with an inscrutable smile.

"You don't seem surprised," says Eve, brushing a piece of fluff off the back of Bond's jacket.

"Not in the least. Like I said, it was very accommodating of you to come to bar." He looks over in the direction of the two men still canoodling at their table.

"You knew about this?" She isn't shocked, so much as curious at Bond's remarkable laissez-faire.

"Those two have been on the cards since I got back from Scotland."

"I didn't know Tanner was gay," muses Eve, with an air of disappointment.

Bond turns his head to look at her.

"He's not. He's just infatuated. Q isn't either, _he_ just finds pussy too complicated. They'll probably go home together, wank each other off, and it'll be business as usual until the next time."

The matter-of-fact way in which Bond surmises Tanner and Q's sexual exploits makes Eve wonder if he is just as un-phased by his own.

"I thought we were supposed to have an orgy," she says with a pout.

Bond slips his arm around her, tracing patterns on her back with his finger.

"I think those two want to be alone."

The kissing has become a lot more earnest now, and Eve wonders if any of the other customers in the bar were going to start noticing or complaining.

"Shame," she replies, letting her hand slide down to Bond's arse, giving it a squeeze, "my three favourite boys. I'd fuck you all."

Bond raises an eyebrow.

"Really? How about all at the same time?"

Eve takes her hand off his backside and turns back to the bar as the barman starts putting their drinks and glasses on two trays.

"If I thought you could all keep up with me." She picks up the tray with the four glasses of Scotch on it, and starts back to their table with a grin.

***

They all end up back at Eve's place. 

She wasn't kidding about fucking them all, and the alcohol coursing through her just makes her more determined. She's horny as hell after the taxi ride, Bond had felt her up the entire length of the journey, and she's pretty sure Tanner's hands had been up her skirt at some point, when they hadn't been under Q's shirt.

As soon as they're through the door, clothes start to come off in the hallway, and she has to usher them through to the lounge; she'd like to at least do it on the sofa, if they can't actually make it to the bedroom.

Q still has the slightly bewildered, rabbit-caught-in-the-headlights look about him, so she decides he should get her attention first. Bond and Tanner seem quite happy to keep each other's erections ticking over, as Eve pushes Q down on the sofa, straddling him. it's not long before she's kissed her way from his lips to his cock, and then he's coming in her mouth. 

It's Tanner's turn next, and she leaves some of Q's cum on her tongue, wanting him to taste it before she turns round and lets him fuck her over the back of the sofa. The angle is just right, and she comes hard with a squeal, taking Tanner with her, while Bond lazily coaxes Q back to life.

She wants Bond all to herself though, and after leaving a suitably polite interval following Tanner's withdrawal, she drags James off to the bedroom, leaving a giggly, wide-eyed Q in Tanner's capable hands and mouth.

The bedroom is quiet after the hot intensity of the lounge. Eve and James lay kissing on the bed for a long while before his hands start to slide down between them.

"Sorry," Eve apologises, her cheeks turning crimson when James brings up fingers slick with Tanner's fluid. "Sloppy seconds is so unsexy."

Bond shrugs.

"Bill and I have been friends for years, it's not the first time. Although it is the first time _I'll_ have gone in last. It makes a change for the poor bugger to get in before I wear a girl out." He grins lasciviously and Eve laughs.

"I honestly did intend to have you all at once, you know, but the best laid plans..." she leans over to kiss Bond, but he is staring at her sadly.

"What is it?" Eve pulls him close to her, snuggling him against her. Bond lets out a shuddering sigh, and she realises he's crying.

"Hey, James, what's the matter? You can tell me." She cradles him close, stroking his hair, trying to ignore the enthusiastic noises coming through the wall from the lounge.

"I watched her die," is all he could manage to rasp out before a loud sob overtakes him. Eve feels her stomach sink, and her heart starts racing. She knows that feeling herself; at least Bond hadn't been the one to fire the shot. She'd stood there and watched Bond fall from the train, a bullet in his chest, a bullet she'd put there. Killing was bad enough, but killing your own by accident had to be the worst. 

She felt her eyes prickling with tears, and tried to blink them away. She wonders how they got from her talking about fucking all three of them, to Bond crying on her chest, and her own sudden flood of guilt.

_The best laid plans..._

"Oh Christ."

Retrieving the harddrive, it should have been relatively simple, but then that fucking train...

And luring Silva to Scotland, with M as the bait, it had worked; but who could have known M would be mortally wounded in the crossfire? 

It was all such a fucking mess. And if she'd had a clean shot, if she'd just hit Patrice instead...

 _All my fault._

The crushing realisation that it all led back to her crappy marksmanship hit Eve in the gut like a speeding truck. If she'd killed Patrice, M might still be alive.

The high pitched wail that escapes from Eve startles Bond from his own grief. He lifts his head and Eve clutches her hands to her face, the thin, haunting noise continuing as her body begins to shake violently with sobs.

"Eve, Christ, what's the matter?" Bond wipes his own tears away, sitting up, gently scooping his hand around Eve's shoulders and pulling her against his chest. She curls up in to a tight ball, knees against her chest, sobbing silently now, her arms over her head. She chokes out some words, but he can't make them out.

"Honey, you're not making sense," James gently tries to prise one of her arms away from her face. She takes a deep, ragged breath before spitting out " _my fault_!" with such venom that James feels a chill.

"No, Eve, _sweetheart_ , none of this was your fault," he cradles her closer, mind whirring with the possible scenarios that would lead her to conclude she was to blame.

The bedroom door softly opens, and Tanner pokes his head round, looking both concerned and like hell, himself. James realises he must have heard Eve's wailing.

"Everything alright?" asks Bill softly, the tone giving away that he knows it isn't. James looks at him, his own eyes growing wet again when he sees the state of his friend. Bill pushes the door open and quietly walks in, pulling a small, half-naked and waif-like Q behind him, their hands firmly entwined.

"Bloody alcohol," says Bill in a half-whisper, his eyes moist as he and Q come and sit on the bed. Q takes off his shirt and drapes it over the naked Eve, before curling himself around her protectively. Bond carefully wriggles down the bed so he has enough room to lay down, still holding on to Eve, who is worryingly quiet. Ever efficient and practical, Bill pulls the folded quilt that lays at the foot of the bed up over them all, sliding under it behind Q, throwing his arm across both Q and Eve, catching Bond's forearm in his hand and giving it a squeeze.

"Funny how it hits when the emotions are already high." Bill looks across at James, both pairs of cool blue eyes staring in to each other, trying to read the unspoken emotions within.

Bond wants to say 'like a bullet,' or 'like a train,' but the analogy is inappropriate; instead he settles for releasing his hold on Eve just enough so that he can take hold of Bill's hand, lacing their fingers together, squeezing tight.

***

Bond isn't sure if he's awake, or dreaming.

He feels the delicious sensations of someone's mouth on his cock, but gradually, as the sensations start to break through in to his consciousness, he realises that it's actually real.

He squints in the half-light of the bedroom, covering his eyes with his forearm. After a particularly pleasurable manoeuvre runs the length of his cock, eliciting a moan from him, he turns his head, remembering that he has three other people in the bed with him.

Bill is lying on the opposite side, tightly wrapped around Q, who is nestled against him, one arm around Bill's neck, the pair of them still sound asleep. So that means Eve is the one now sucking on his morning erection.

In the alcohol-induced bravado of the night before, James would have been happy to fuck her in the same room, even at the same time as the other two, but in the slightly painful hangover of the morning after, he isn't so sure. They'd all fallen in to an uneasy sleep, and Bond's eyes are burning, feeling puffy from the hours of silent tears he had cried in the dark, and from the look of Q and Bill, he isn't alone.

The mouth on his cock stops its ministrations, and Eve appears out from under the quilt, wearing Q's shirt. She was a beautiful girl, but even in the dim light James could see she looks a mess right now; her face is drawn, and there is an air of defeat in the way she iss sliding the quilt back so she can straddle him.

Bond isn't sure he wants this; he had envisaged a more private and passionate session with Eve, but he can see a grim determination in her eyes as she leans down to kiss him, and the absence of her tongue trying to slide into his mouth tells him she's broken, emotionally wrung-out, that she needs this fuck just to feel something.

Bond looks across at the two sleeping men, before sliding his hands to Eve's waist. She sits up and positions herself over him, and he can feel the half-dried stickiness of Tanner's cum still on her thighs as she sinks down onto his cock. 

She rides him slowly, carefully, aware of the others in the bed. Bond reaches up to fondle her breasts, pinching her nipples, and an almost pained look of concentration crosses her face. Bond himself is feeling not much more than perfunctory pleasure from the cautious fucking, and decides that if Eve needs to feel again, she needs to damned well _feel_. So he leaves her breasts and uses his arms to push himself in to a sitting position, carefully turning himself and Eve so that his feet are on the floor and he's sitting on the edge of the bed. Eve throws her arms around his neck, and leans in to give him a vicious love-bite, which makes him reach up and pull her off him by the hair.

Eve hisses in pain, and looks at him angrily, before trying to lean in and bite him again. Bond twists his hand in her hair, which causes her to whimper. Behind them, Tanner stirs in his sleep with a long sigh.

Bond pushes himself up from the bed, lifting Eve with him, her cunt still gripping his shaft. His legs are a little shaky, but he manages to carry her to the en suite bathroom, and shuts the door with a bump of his arse, before pressing her up against the wall, none too gently, winding her slightly. Eve growls indignantly and claws at his back. Bond gets a rush of adrenaline, and starts to move inside her, pinning her torso to the wall with his own as he starts to pound her.

Now they're out of the bed and behind a closed door, they start to make noise. Bond is aware that the door to the bedroom won't stop much sound, but he doesn't care, he suddenly needs this as much as she does, as he continues aggressively fucking her lithe body.

Eve is clawing at him again, trying to push him away from the wall, kicking her heels against the backs of his thighs, and if it wasn't for the loud moaning and her urging him to fuck her even harder, he'd be worried she wanted him to stop.

One of her kicks lands low, against the back of his knee and it crumples. She uses the moment of unsteadiness to push him away, and he slides out of her. She catches him off guard and knocks him to the floor. Before he can regain control, she's on him again, impaling herself on his achingly hard cock, and now she's riding him like a woman possessed, eyes closed, hands tearing at her own hair, sweat running down her chest as she writhes on him. 

Bond momentarily contemplates rolling them over so he can pin her down, drill into her with the sudden, burning need to possess every inch of her; but it's too late. Eve comes with a violent snap of her hips and he loses himself, both of them climaxing noisily. As Eve's wetness twitches around him with aftershocks, Bond looks up at her, panting, wiping the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. They're both breathing heavily, and he starts to feel the sting of the scratches on his back against the cold tiles of the bathroom floor.

Eve climbs off him, his cock in retreat, her thighs trembling, his cum dribbling out of her as she moves to sit next to him.

"Feel better?" asks James, sitting up and sliding his arm around her waist. Eve draws her knees up, hugging them to herself, leaving a small pool of Bond's semen on the floor. She looks at him with a weary grin.

"Much better, thanks. It's amazing what drink and sticky sex with multiple partners can do for the soul."

Bond breathes out, his eyebrows raised.

"Speak for yourself, I've only done it properly with you."

Eve lets out a small tut.

"Well, we can't have that, James, I think it's time those _other_ boys got a sexy awakening."

Bond pushes himself up off the floor, and offers Eve his hand, pulling her up. She's still wearing Q's shirt, but it's sweaty and wrinkled, and there's blood on one sleeve from one of the scratches she left on Bond's back.

Eve opens the door, careful not to make it creak as she widens the gap enough to poke her head round.

After a moment, she brings it back in and closes the door again.

"What's the matter?" asks James, puzzled at Eve's raised eyebrows.

"Remember how I woke _you_ this morning? Well, it seems that Q's had the same idea about Bill..."

Bond laughs. "Really? Let's have a look." He reaches for the door handle. Eve slaps his hand away.

"James! Don't be rude. And besides, _we_ have the shower..." she glances at the frosted glass panel next to them, and slowly slips off the messed-up shirt.

As Eve turns on the water, and they slip beneath it, the imagined sound of M's laughter fills Bond's ears.


End file.
